


Home for the Holidays Again

by spikesgirl58



Series: 14 days of Christmas [11]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28192710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: What is home to Illya Kuryakin?  He isn't sure, but Giles is there to help.
Series: 14 days of Christmas [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2050131
Comments: 14
Kudos: 21





	Home for the Holidays Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reapermum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reapermum/gifts).



The pub was practically throbbing with noise. Voices, singing, and laughter bounced off the walls and enveloped everyone inside. It was warm and welcoming, always ready to find one more chair for someone. That was what a pub was all about, thought. When you didn’t want to go home or couldn’t, you went to the pub.

Illya Kuryakin moved slowly through the mass of bodies, concentrating upon not spilling his drink and not getting his pocket picked. He moved from the main room to one of the smaller side rooms. It wasn’t quite as packed as the other, but the bar was still doing a roaring business. 

A singer at the end of the bar was belting out Christmas carols and Illya found himself paying attention. Singing was not something Illya did a lot of. Unlike his partner, Napoleon, Illya was okay at it, but he preferred playing an instrument instead. It was hard to be away from him and home now. 

He took a swig from his glass, trying to remember just when New York became home. For a long time, the USSR was home, then France and finally England. Each time he thought he’d found it, but now he knew. No matter what Tony Bennet said about San Francisco, Illya’s heart was firmly planted in New York.

That’s what made this assignment so hard. He didn’t mind being shuffled around the world most of the time, but at Christmas he liked to be in New York. His first Christmas in the city had been quite the adventure. Napoleon made sure he did it all, save from sitting on Santa’s knee. Illya gave points to Napoleon for trying, though.

Christmas meant the Radio City Music Hall and its chorus lines, the Nutcracker at the Lincoln Center, even HQ with its annual Christmas party and horrible gifts. He traced a groove in the table. This was a time to be with people and yet in a room full of revelers, he felt totally alone.

Instead, he was stuck in London as part of a Russian musical troop. Or at least that was his cover. The reality was more sinister. Someone in the group was suspected of passing uranium to THRUSH and Illya was trying to figure out who.

The singer perched at the far end of the room was good, but loud. It would be nice to lose himself in the music and get pissed, as they liked to say here, but he was no closer to finding the guilty party than when he started.

It was fun, he had to admit to himself to sing the old carols. Napoleon hadn’t believed that there were Russian carols until Illya proved him wrong. How he wished that Napoleon was here now to prove him wrong again.

“Do… do you mind?” The voice pulled Illya from his thoughts and he looked up to see a man standing before him and gesturing to an empty chair. “Everywhere else is full.”

“Of course,” Illya said, letting his Russian accent trump his British one. He half rose as the man sat. 

“You are Russian? With the group?”

“Da, Illya Kuryakin.” Illya made a short bow before he took his seat again.

“Rupert Giles… I saw you perform earlier? At the theatre?”

“Yes. You have a lovely country, but I am ready to be home.”

“I know what you mean. I just popped in to visit the relatives, but they are vacationing in Spain. Normally, I live in California.”

“It is very green there. With smog.” Illya made it a statement.

Giles laughed, “Yes, we do have an issue with it. Where are you from?”

Illya leaned forward, “Can you keep a secret?”

The man appeared flustered. “Wha… what sort of secret?”

“I live in New York, not Russia. None of us are from Russia. They just think it sounds better. I thought I would be happy to be among my countrymen, but I find now that I am horribly Americanized.”

Giles laughed at that and gestured towards the bar. “Would you like another?”

Illya smiled at the offer. “That is very kind and I am through singing for the evening. Thank you.”

The drinks arrived and both men sat quietly for a time until Giles cleared his throat. “I heard your group perform last night. You are very good.”

Illya bowed his head. “Again, my thanks.”

“I didn’t know there were any carols in your country.”

“Well, technically, they cast a dark eye upon them, but, in recent times and in an attempt to lighten their image, they are falling back to the old ways.”

“The old ways?”

“We use the word _kolyadki_ now as the word for Christmas Eve, but it used to refer to pagan songs. The church forbid them, but like so many other countries, learned to embrace them as a way of reaching the people. Groups of young children would go around on Christmas Eve, singing at various houses. The homeowners would give the children gifts as it was thought their songs would bring luck to the house.”

“And it became tradition. How like children.” 

“Yes. In time, many of the old favorites were translated into Russian. _Tikhay noch_ for example.”

“Ah, _Silent Night_ , it was lovely.”

“You speak Russian?” Illy signaled for two more beers.

Giles smiled. “I was trying to translate some texts and it seemed the easiest way.”

Illya grinned at that and dropped his Russian accent. “I speak a handful myself and I never heard Russian called easy. What sort of texts?”

“After some of the languages I’d studied, it was. Believe me, Ancient Sumerian isn’t to be sneezed at. They were about Baba Yaga.”

Illya raised his nearly empty glass. “There is a woman you don’t want to trifle with.” Illya drank and then gave Giles a sly smile. “All those stories are true, by the way.” The drinks arrived as did a dish of potato chips. “I miss crisps,” Illya said as he attacked one, chewing happily. “The ones in America taste different.”

“You are a paradox. You are Russian, but you live in America, but obviously have British ties.”

“Went to school here. It was easier to learn the language with immersion. I did the same thing in France when I went to school there.”

“You get around.”

“I do. I’m one of the lucky few.” Illya frowned. “I think I need something more than crisps. Mr. Giles, are you doing anything for dinner?”

“Why, Mr. Kuryakin, I do believe I have an opening.”

“Excellent!” He gestured and the young woman approached, eyeing their glasses. 

“It’s a bit early for last call, sir.”

“I agree. We were wondering if you might have a menu we could see.”

“We do, but I would have to ask you to move to a table over there.” She gestured to a small table at the back of the room. 

Illya looked at Giles, who nodded happily. Illya picked up the drinks, noticing two of his fellow singers disappearing toward the bathrooms. Well, they were adults and it was their asses, literally if they got caught.

“I’ll be right along.” Giles jerked his head in that direction and Illya nodded.

Illya took out his glasses and started to study the menu. The music was less loud in here and the thought of some company helped make him feel a bit less isolated.

Giles returned and sat, an odd expression on his face.

“Are you all right, Mr. Giles?”

“Just Giles, if you would. And, no, I’m very confused. When I was using the facilities, I overheard two men talking about, of all things, uranium.”

“Here?” Illya let his face show disbelief. “That’s something strange to talk about anywhere, much less a bathroom.”

“I… I don’t think they knew I was there.” 

“Could you… excuse me for a moment? If the waitress comes by, I’ll have the fish and chips”

“Yes, of course.” Giles picked up the menu and as soon as Illya was sure his attention was fully diverted, Illya hurried to the bathroom.

He greeted his fellow singers as they exited. For some reason, both men looked dazed and a bit unsure as to where they were as if they were coming out of a deep sleep. Illya entered and glanced around, making sure he was alone, and then pulled out his communicator. “Open Channel D, please.”

When he returned a few minutes later, Giles was polishing his glasses.

“Everything all right? You were gone for a bit. I was becoming concerned.”

“I just wanted to call my uncle in New York and wish him a Merry Christmas. And my partner.”

“Partner?”

“Napoleon. I wanted to make sure he was feeding my cat. He can be a bit flighty at this time of the year.”

“Won’t you be home in time for the holidays?”

“Probably not.” Two police officers entered and approached Illya’s suspects. Within a few minutes, they were being hustled from the room, the band director in hot pursuit. “I have a feeling we are going to be a few singers short come morning.” Illya sat back as a plate of food was set in front of him.

“I have a sneaking suspicion that you might have had something to do with it.” 

Illya smiled and immediately dug into the mushy peas. “I haven’t had these in years. Mm, takes me back to my university days. In Russia, it’s the piroshkies and in France, it’s the croissants. In England, it’s the mushy peas.”

“Sadly, yes… Oxford?

“Cambridge.”

“That’s me as well.” Giles sprinkled some malted vinegar over his fish. “Listen, if you have no place to be on Christmas Eve, why don’t you join me at my place? It’s not big or fancy, but it’s comfortable and I can promise you a hearty meal.”

“You had me at not big or fancy. I would love to. Anything would be better than an empty hotel room.” Illya touched his glass to Giles. ”Thank you. 

“Your partner’s name is Napoleon? Is he French?”

“Only in temperament. Now tell me, what about your studies with Baba Yaga…”

Outside, the snow drifted down and the wind blew, but inside the two men sat, warm and comfortable and just a little less lonely because of each other.


End file.
